Christmas With Friends
by starry-oblivion
Summary: The Christmas after he loses his job at Hogwarts, a lonely Remus reflects on the friendships he's made over the years, only to be surprised by a very special gift by a very old friend.


Remus Lupin was a quiet man.

He enjoyed the simple things, and he had a relatively boring life (when one considers he'd just lost a job at a wizarding school because he was a werewolf). He didn't much mind being boring, though; things were safer like that, and made much more sense. It was easier to do the right thing by everyone that way, since he wasn't blinded by a boyish need for adventure. Then again, given his age… well….

He'd just finished getting the tea the way he liked it on a particularly cold winter's morning when he heard the tapping at the window that signified the post had come in. He'd never really gotten much in the mail, aside from when he'd been a student in Hogwarts and his parents would send him the occasional care package, and so he moved over to the kitchen window rather curiously. As soon as he unlatched it, a small tawny owl flew in, dropping a bundle of brightly-colored envelopes on his counter.

_Christmas cards,_ he marveled silently, astounded as he spread them out and saw they were all indeed for him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a Christmas card. At the very least, it was surely before Lily and James had died, so he'd gone without them since the 70s.

Once again feeling old, he offered the owl a bit of oat bran, at which it hooted sullenly and fluttered its wings a bit, as though demanding something else. He never knew what to do with owls once they delivered his mail, as he never had any appropriate treats for them on hand, and so he decided to give it a bit free reign for a while as he sorted through his cards, deciding that it would eventually grow tired and fly off. Maybe if they were both lucky, it would find one of the mice that occasionally poked its head through the various nooks and crannies of the rundown little cottage and leave with a more appetizing snack.

Sitting at the single chair at his small table, Remus picked up the first envelope, a large, dark red mass with violently green holiday decals all over it. He recognized the handwriting immediately, smiling as he took to opening it. He was greeted by a photograph of nine redheads, some plump, some rail thin, all of them more or less beaming. Of course, given that Percy was less than beaming but still present in the photograph, he knew that the picture had likely been taken the year before, and that they'd only gotten around to printing them as cards and sending them out just recently. He wasn't really surprised. Given that they'd been busy raising seven healthy, happy children for over twenty years, it's a wonder that Arthur and Molly got anything accomplished at all.

Standing the photo up against the saltshaker and feeling a pang when he realized he wouldn't be back to teach the four younger Weasleys, Remus picked up the next card in the batch. The envelope was plain white and very neat, the handwriting tidy and meticulous. Another smile tugged at his lips when he opened a very elegant card featuring a white dove on a pale blue background, knowing it was from Hermione Granger long before he finished the rather heartfelt greeting inside and got to her signature. He set the card besides the Weasleys', absently wondering why they hadn't just gone ahead and included her and Harry in the family picture, considering how often they were together.

And speaking of Harry, there was a card in the pile from him as well. It jarred Remus for a moment, the way he and James both had certain similar quirks in their penmanship, but he'd had a year of reading Harry's essays to get used to it. Now though, with nothing but time on his hands, he looked over every word carefully, distracted only by the obviously meaningful picture of a stag in a snowy field on the front of the card. Throat dry, he picked up his tea and took a short sip, thoughts distracted and momentarily confusing Harry for James in his memories, and vice versa.

"You would have been proud of him, Prongs," he murmured into the empty room.

Ignoring the hurt that threatened to well up, he sorted through the rest of the cards that had been brought in with the morning post. Professor Dumbledore had been kind enough to send him a holiday note, along with a reminder that he was welcome in Hogwarts whenever he might take it to mind to stay for an extended visit. Professor McGonagall and most of the rest of the staff also sent their regards, expressing more or less the same thing. It was astonishing, really; last Christmas, Remus had been convinced that his only living "friend' was currently serving time in Azkaban for being involved in the murder of all the rest of his friends. And now….

He was startled from his thoughts by a rather unpleasant squawk coming from the window. Flinching at the noise, he caught sight of the most garishly-colored bird he'd ever seen in his life. It dwarfed the tiny owl that now stood by the faucet, hiding its face behind its wing as though in either fear or embarrassment. The multicolored bird tilted its head at Remus once again before opening its ridiculously long beak and letting out another impatient squawk, and he realized that it had a small parcel tied to its leg.

Surprised and wondering who on earth would use such an impractical bird to deliver a message, Remus got up and cautiously approached it, half-expecting it to dart forward and launch its long beak right at him. It would be an almost hilarious sort of cruelty, and the moment that description came into his mind, he stopped and simply stared at the bird, which was beginning to ruffle its feathers in irritation.

"Oh, Sirius," he gasped incredulously, shaking his head as he continued to close the distance between himself and the bird. "You mad, mad fool." At least the… parrot? … toucan? … whatever it was, it was properly trained in delivery, as it obediently held out its leg and remained still so Remus could untie the parcel.

As soon as its charge was delivered, the bird flew off, and not long afterwards did the little owl sheepishly follow suit. After closing the window after them so as not to let in anymore cold air in the already-drafty cottage, Remus walked the package back to the table, resuming his seat.

It was most assuredly Sirius' bold, blocky print scrawled across the brown packaging paper, and Remus took a slow, deep breath. Just when he'd thought he had his best friend back, Sirius had been ripped away again, having to hide away from the authorities until his innocence could be proven. Given that Remus had had no luck in tracking down Wormtail (and, in fact, often found himself wishing that an owl had chosen the little sneak as an entrée), he didn't foresee spending a holiday with Sirius for a long, long time.

Ignoring the pang that went through him as he thought of all the wasted years in which he could have at least gone to visit Sirius while he was wrongfully imprisoned, Remus set about carefully opening the package. He noticed that the word "fragile" had been stamped upon it, leaving him to wonder if Sirius had actually bought him a nice gift or if he should proceed with caution. Over a decade in Azkaban might do a lot to change a man, but that didn't necessarily mean that it could weed out Sirius' prankster nature.

Debating for a moment between unwrapping the tissue paper around the gift and reading the enclosed card first, he settled on doing what Sirius himself might do. Tearing through the paper, he dug out a silver, handheld mirror, frowning for a moment. A mirror? Really? Why would Sirius…?

But then he remembered. When they had been in school, Sirius and James used to communicate with one another while in different detentions through the use of a two-way mirror. Excited, he blinked at his reflection, hoping to see a glimpse of his old friend's face instead of simply his own tired old expression.

Even as he realized that nothing was happening, Remus looked about the frame and realized that no, this wasn't the same mirror he'd seen the pair of them use in school. This looked like a normal mirror one might buy at any store, making Remus frown once again. A normal mirror? Why on earth would Sirius send him a normal mirror?

Looking down at the card for a moment, he picked it up and ripped through the seal, finding that it wasn't a card at all. It was simply a piece of plain white notepaper, upon which Sirius seemed to write a very rushed and very brief letter.

_Old friend,_

_ While the years might have changed us, there are some things that time can't touch. Among them is the fact that Prongsy would skin me if I didn't give his mirror over to his boy. Sorry to disappoint, but if you know what I'm talking about, that means that at least our memories are still sharp. They might be all we have soon, so let's relish them while we can. In the mean time, have yourself a looking-glass; I expect your hair to be combed the next time I see you._

_Yours always,_

_Padfoot_

_P.S.- Keep staring and it might just do a trick._

… well. That was all well and good. It still didn't explain why a mirror. Putting down the note, Remus once again picked up the mirror, looking it over. The handle wasn't particularly ornate, and looked fairly generic in construction. Unless it was charmed to do something special when he least expected it, he couldn't make heads or tails out of the thing.

But the note implied that he should keep staring into it, and so he peered at his reflection, the look on his face making it quite obvious that he felt ridiculous. His eyes ran over his features, lined and scarred with years of extreme wear and tear. Combing his hair was the least of his worries; compared to how it got once a month, it was currently virtually impeccable, even if it _was_ in need of a trim.

It was depressing, really. While he had never been particularly extroverted, his younger self would have been sad to see that he gets to a point where the highlight of his day is going over the morning post with a cup of tea. And James and Sirius would have never gone for it. The moment they got even the vaguest impression that he was beginning to be in a rut, they would do something absolutely drastic to make up for-

Remus blinked suddenly, catching the reflection of something moving in the shadows over his shoulder. Straightening up, he stared at the spot, but whatever had moved towards the living room had elected to stay there. He stared a little longer, deciding to write it off as just a trick of the light, but then a wavering, orange glow began to dance upon his living room wall.

Fire. Someone had lit a fire.

Whether that fire was in the proper fireplace or simply an arbitrary act of arson, he couldn't tell from where he was. Cursing his own inattentiveness and hoping that this wasn't anything serious, he got out his wand and stood, not even realizing that his other hand still held tightly to the handle of the mirror. Being careful to make no sound, he slowly approached the threshold between the kitchen and the living room, a Shield Charm on the tip of his tongue just in case he needed to use it. Pressing his back against the wall so as to not give the other person any free space to cast a surprise hex, he took a deep breath before slowly poking his head around the corner. What he saw took him aback.

A roaring fireplace. A bottle of something amber-colored and expensive-looking, along with two glasses set upon the end table. And a very familiar face beaming up at him, a poker in his hand and his wand in the other as he nudged at the flames.

"I see you didn't even take the time to comb your hair. Rude."

Remus wasn't able to do anything for a moment other than stare at him. When the silence almost seemed to begin to get uncomfortable, given the way Sirius' wide smile had begun to falter, he lowered his wand and stepped into the room, though that didn't change the absolutely flabbergasted expression on his face. "You were planning on saying that all along, weren't you?"

"It isn't my best opening line," Sirius admitted, shrugging a shoulder as he set the poker down and rose to his feet. "But I'm a bit rusty. I haven't run into much of anyone with a sense of humor in ages, and the Dementors certainly don't count." He paused for a moment before holding his arms out. "If you've had your morning shower, I wouldn't mind a hug from my only remaining friend in all the world."

"You're the one who looks as though you haven't showered, you unmitigated berk," Remus returned even as he closed the distance between them, embracing Sirius heartily. In all honesty, Sirius looked leagues better than he had the last time they'd met, but considering those circumstances, he couldn't really be surprised. If he'd looked _worse_, Remus would have been downright frantic. Instead, that ghostly pallor was gone, and it looked as though Sirius was actually enjoying regular meals once again.

The hug lasted a long time, with neither man breaking away until he felt that the other might be beginning to grow uncomfortable. With a wave of his arm and an air that suggested that Remus had stumbled upon _his_ derelict cottage uninvited instead of the other way around, Sirius gestured to the bottle and said, "Sit. Have a drink. Or two, or three. It would be a shame to save the bottle for a future that might never get here."

"Isn't it a little too early for drinks, Sirius?"

"Not where I just came from!"

"And where was that?"

"Sorry, mate," Sirius told him with a shake of his head. "According to Dumbledore, confidentiality is the only thing keeping my head above water. I'm afraid there are some things I can't even tell _you_."

"Oh, _please_," Remus scoffed, conceding to join Sirius on the sofa and accepting a glass as he set the mirror down on the table. "A colorful bird, a very unseasonable if mild tan, and I'm fairly sure this is rum. You were never exactly subtle, you know. Another ten minutes and you're likely to be singing '_La Cucaracha_' or something equally telling."

"Ooh, so close," Sirius returned. "Similar culture, but entirely wrong country. Still, that might be enough to make you a liability. I suppose the only thing for it is to pack you in a trunk and take you with me. As a hostage, of course. Because according to England, I'm evil, and evil blokes take hostages."

Unsure of how serious he was being, Remus replied, "I'm not going anywhere with you, much less to a place where they don't even speak English."

"Oh, you'll get over the language barrier before long," Sirius assured him after a gulp of his drink. "It actually makes it a lot easier to chat up people, so maybe you'll finally have a shot at settling down with a _bonita chica_… or _chica bonita_, I forget the proper grammar."

Narrowing his eyes, Remus was silent for a moment before remarking, "I can't tell if you're being flippant or if you actually expect me to blindly follow you wherever you may go despite the fact that you're a fugitive."

"Why can't it be both?" Sirius replied, smiling absently. Seeing that this only made Remus furrow his brow even more, he casually shrugged his shoulders, declaring, "You know perfectly well that I jest, Moony. If the Ministry finds me, it's bad enough. I won't go dragging you down with me."

"Then clearly, your best option is to not get caught," Remus brought up. "Why come _here_, of all places? Being a werewolf hasn't exactly gotten me a good reputation; surely you could find a safer place to be if you wanted to drop back into the country for a visit?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Sirius asked, and then continued on when he saw that it apparently wasn't. "I spent twelve Christmases in Azkaban. I sure as hell wasn't going to spend another one in my own personal prison… and neither should you."

"Me?"

"Oh, don't pretend you're not transparent," Sirius huffed. "Just seeing you back in the Shrieking Shack for but a few minutes was enough time to tell that the years haven't been kind to you, Moony. You look old enough to be my _dad_, or at least my uncle. Do you even _have_ friends, or did I just catch you on an off day?"

"Of course I have friends," Remus replied, somewhat petulantly. "Harry and I get along very well, and I'm rather fond of Hermione and of Ron and the rest of the Weasleys. And the Headmaster-"

"Merlin's beard, Remus, a bunch of kids and their headmaster is _not_ what I meant!" Sirius exclaimed, looking flabbergasted. "_I'm_ your friend. Prongs and Lils were your friends. This is a very narrow social circle you've drawn for yourself, mate, and I won't stand for it." Nudging the hand Remus was using to hold his drink, he insisted, "Now you're going to have yourself a drink by the fireplace with an old friend and tell me everything I've missed in your life, and be very colorful with your story because I'm living vicariously through you and am not above thoroughly embarrassing you right now just to give myself a thrill."

Glancing down at his glass with a rueful sort of smile, Remus thought about it for a moment before admitting, "You're going to be sorely disappointed," and taking a sip of his drink.

"Wrong answer," Sirius immediately replied. "As a penalty, I'm going curse one of your toiletries to make whatever it touches fall right off. The ability to reattach those body parts may be won if you can explain to me why our sandy-haired little prefect and Golden Boy of Gryffindor House has opted to spend Christmas with no more animated company than a picture of the Weasleys. Don't get me wrong, they're good people, but _live_ people would be a vast improvement."

Silently looking down in thought, Remus eventually looked back up at Sirius, his smile just a little more genuine. "If I'd gone anywhere, I might have missed being able to spend Christmas with you."

The response softened Sirius quite a bit, his eyes sparkling just a little in the way they used to when they were boys. "Good enough, I suppose. But you forgot one thing." Raising his glass, he fondly murmured, "No matter where you would have gone, I would have found you."

Remus paused for a moment, letting that sink in before slowly raising his glass and gently clinking it against Sirius'. "To always being found, then."

"In this world and the next."

"That's a bit morbid," Remus remarked with a frown, causing Sirius to laugh. "But yes, all right. Lily can replace Wormtail, and the four of us can be the Marauders once again, someday."

"We're always going to be the Marauders," Sirius declared. "Even if we get too old to do much in the way of marauding. But hopefully we won't live so long."

"Still morbid," Remus murmured, smiling just a little. "But I suppose I can appreciate the sentiment behind it. It would be hard not to, considering it comes from a man who risked being arrested just so he could spend Christmas with me."

"As though I would rather spend Christmas with anyone else," Sirius returned. Remus remained silent, trying not to think about how all of the people Sirius may prefer spending his holiday with were already passed on. As though seeing his silence for what it was, Sirius reached out, gently clasping Remus' shoulder. "I wouldn't, you know. James and I might've been known for being nearly brothers, but I loved you no less. And let's face it; much as I want to hold onto Harry and raise him as my own, you're really all the family I have left."

"I know," Remus breathed out, his heart feeling heavy as he thought about how he and Sirius and Harry were all robbed of being part of a beautiful family dynamic. "And believe me, the feeling is beyond mutual. Even if you _do_ wreck my toiletries."

That earned a hearty laugh from Sirius as he clapped a hand against his shoulder before letting it drop. "Good for you, stopping it before we got all teary-eyed. I taught you well." Before anything else could be said, Sirius added a low and heartfelt, "Happy Christmas, Remus. I'm sorry I couldn't do much for presents, but…well, hopefully the company will do."

Giving him a small but very warm smile, Remus replied, "It's the best gift I've gotten in years. Thank you."


End file.
